


Blood In The Water

by prince_of_hell



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Multi, Vampires, Werewolves, probably, the main focus is 2p America and england, the rusame and prucan is gonna be a while
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-06 01:33:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16378856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prince_of_hell/pseuds/prince_of_hell
Summary: Detective Arthur Kirkland has become suspicious of a local mechanic shop, whose owner's pictures he seemed to be able to find back through the last century. Meanwhile, his friend Alfred Jones starts work at a quirky coffee shop, right down the street from the mansion of a seemingly impossibly rich man.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully you enjoy this, and hopefully I remember to keep writing it. I've had this premise in mind for a while! Sorry for the probably slow burn in the ship department!

Detective Kirkland’s Office  
October 7th  
1:27 AM

The stillness of the night finally swept over the office- Arthur Kirkland had left hours before, not by his own will, but by his partner having to physically drag him out so that he would actually get sleep for the next day. He hadn’t gotten any for the previous two days, and Gilbert Beilschmidt saw that he was on the verge of passing out anyways.

The still was only interrupted by footsteps, light ones, that were on the verge of gliding if it weren’t for the squeak of the rubber on the soles of the shoes. Arthur’s chair squeaked with the weight of a body in it, spinning for a moment before stopping and flipping through his papers, taking a few out to scatter them across the desk.

The sound of a door opening startled the man who had sat down in the chair- the building was empty when he entered. He left in nearly a gust of wind, letting a paper fall down onto the desk. The case file of a man named Allen Jones- a suspected criminal, notes in the quick handwriting of Arthur, words like ‘vampire’ springing from the page. There were pictures beneath from different time periods of what looked like the same man- part of his theory.

The office was once again still, whoever had entered was apparently gone already, and the office was left to the night again.

 

Detective Kirkland’s Office  
October 7th  
7:45 AM

Detective Arthur Kirkland paced around his office, conflicted by this case. There was no real evidence of… well, anything. He was going completely on a hunch that this mechanic shop was connected to the recent murders in the area. It wasn’t like it was new, and it was apparently owned by the same family for decades, but the murders weren’t new either.

The sound of loud laughing let him know that his partner, Gilbert Beilschmidt, had entered the office. He didn’t think he was ever not being loud and disruptive, but he was a valuable asset anyways, and not that bad a guy.

The albino brought his hand down on Arthur’s back a little too hard a few times, glancing at his computer, “Still hung up on that case? Maybe we should work on something else, this seems like something that’ll never get solved. Isn’t there a case where we could go undercover at a strip club or something.”

“Nice to see you too.” Arthur mumbled, eyes not leaving his papers, “You could be more helpful if you actually go and look through this case. Maybe we could check out the mechanic shop in our off time, but we don’t have any good reason… it’s a public place, so it doesn’t matter.”

Gilbert considered that, nodding slowly, “Sounds good to me.” He sat himself down beside him and began looking through the papers, “Who owned the shop before this Allen Jones guy? He’s pretty young, was it his father?”

Arthur nodded, then frowned, “We don’t have his father on any records though, which is suspicious. The shop existed though. We can ask some customers, and see what they think…”

He grinned, “And I’ll treat you to a drink after that, what do you say?” Arthur knew there was no option of him saying ‘no’, as Gilbert would find a way to drag him along anyways. So he shut up, which Gil took as a ‘yes’.

As it came to their lunch break, Gilbert and Arthur changed into their civilian clothes, having Kiku, who frequently helped them out, cover for them while they were gone. They set out to the mechanic shop with one of Gilbert's old cars- it did need fixing up, though he had intended to do it himself.

 

Alfred Jones’ House  
October 7th  
2:35 PM

“Alfred, I have work to do, besides, don’t you have school work or something to do?” came a thick british accent through Alfred’s phone, to which he huffed a reply and hung up. Damn, he really did need a job. He was broke and relying on Arthur for money anyways, and he ended up bored all day. He hoped his parent’s easygoing lifestyle would pass onto him- with him not having to work through college at least.

He was on his own though, and honestly, he could probably use the independence of a job. Even if he didn’t have a degree. So he did all he really could do, throwing on a sweatshirt and setting out to walk. If any ‘now hiring’ signs jumped out at him, maybe he’d take them up.

Unfortunately, none did, but, there was a coffee shop he stopped at, hoping to grab a coffee before setting out. He mumbled something about job hunting not going well as he ordered from who he could only assume was the owner- no one else was that obsessed with how clean the store was.

“We have an opening here.” He offered, and Alfred was surprised to look up, “Oh, uh… okay? I guess I’ll apply here, I mean…” He shrugged, “Do you have any forms or…?”

He was handed a neat set of forms and he set off to a table to fill them out- he was luckier than he expected, but for some reason he doubted he’d pass the interview. He was sure this place was cleaner than any room he had been in in his life, and- his thoughts were cut off by the loud sound of ceramic shattering on concrete, followed by cursing in Italian. Maybe he did have somewhat of a shot after all.

When he finished, he quietly set his paper on the counter- the place was practically abandoned other than the sounds of chaos from the back room. He wasn’t sure what the proper formalities were, so he sat back down and opened a newspaper to occupy himself.

There were articles that he usually skimmed over, right to the sports section to figure out what was happening there, and then to the section of funny comics. In his skimming, his eyes were drawn to an article about some sort of rich guy who had bought a mansion nearby. Alfred had seen him on TV before, he thought, or at least heard someone talk about him. People who were that rich just got talked about, he supposed.

He strolled out of the coffee shop after he had seen his paper had been taken without him even noticing. He purposely took a route by the mansion supposedly occupied by the millionaire- billionaire maybe? Alfred didn’t pay much attention. The guy’s name was Ivan something-too-russian-to-remember. Maybe he could get some dirt on him. Or he could just check it out and not act like a creep.

The house was exactly what he had expected- huge from what he could tell, and barely visible due to a long driveway and a lot of forest around it. The seclusion it provided couldn’t help but intrigue Alfred. What could he be hiding? Sure, he wouldn’t want to be ambushed by paparazzi, but all of this wouldn’t help with that situation.

He moved a bit closer, and managed to make it all the way up the driveway to view the mansion- it got bigger the closer he got, and when he swore it couldn’t be larger, it went about two times past that. Maybe he should knock of the door, he figured, but he realized that the guy could have some amped up security that would shoot him if he got close to the door.

He did spot someone inside- a tall, blonde man that he only could assume was the owner of the house. Instead of rationally ducking into the bushes, he bolted for it, dropping his wallet on the way out. He didn’t feel like picking it up, all that was in there was his school ID anyways- he’d already lost it three times, what was one more?


	2. 2

Allen’s Mechanic Shop  
October 7th  
12:33 PM

 

Arriving, Arthur took note of the fact that the look of the place probably deterred people from entering. It looked run down, like it wasn’t even running, and like any work they did was probably incorrectly done.

Upon entering though, it was a fairly nice place, well furnished, as if people lived there and didn’t just work there, though the vending machines, and in fact every food source besides the coffee maker, seemed to be out of service.

They walked to the front desk and Gilbert rang the bell, to which a well dressed blonde man who seemed better suited for a fashion show then a mechanic shop appeared at the desk out of seemingly nowhere, asking how he could help them in a thick Italian accent. He wore pink sunglasses, so Arthur couldn’t be sure of his eye color, though it seemed somewhat unnatural. He wouldn’t doubt a man like that to wear colored contacts.

Gilbert explained that he needed a full renovation of his car, and that it was important that he speak to the owner of the shop about it. He introduced Arthur as his uncle, a skit he pulled often that Arthur was never too happy about, knowing it implied he was an ‘old man’, as he was told his attitude often implied.

After what felt like an hour, but was more accurately ten minutes of hushed arguing in the back room, Allen Jones emerged with a cocky grin, leaning against the counter, “What can I do for ya?”

Gilbert, yet again, explained what he needed for his car, as Arthur went wandering around the place, trying to figure out what was going on. Sure, it looked like a normal auto shop, but Arthur swore something was wrong. It had to be.

When snooping around, he found what looked like dried blood on the seat, but before he could actually ask, someone cleared their throat behind him.

He turned to see a man of about his height, fashionably dressed in dark reds and blacks, with orangey-brown hair and an odd curl coming off the side of it. He nearly looked like the man who had been at the counter earlier, and he was sure they must be somewhat related. He did though, look much more angry than him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, thick italian accent proving Arthur’s point that they must be related to each other. He wasn’t sure this was the best customer service, but that didn’t mean they were doing anything illegal.

“My-” He cleared his throat as he answered, “Nephew is busy, so I’m looking around. Do you have any refreshments...?” He asked, attempting to act like he wasn’t just crouching on the floor and examining the seat. 

Before the man could respond, a tall and muscular man covered in scars came up behind him, patting his back, “Luciano, calm down, he’s a paying customer, no need to be so sour. Sorry about him.” He grinned at Arthur, “I’m Lutz, can I help you to some coffee?” Lutz wore a white tank top, though it was stained by his work, clearly, as well as a beanie over his wavy blonde hair that hung just outside of it.

He accepted the coffee from Lutz, and decided that Luciano was just like that- he could empathize, really, he’d had some bad days in his life. Most likely though, he figured, he was just an arsehole overall. 

The rest of their time at the mechanic shop went okay, Arthur was able to find a sample of blood there, while no one was actually looking at him. He had seen some other people who worked there while Gilbert chatted away with Allen- a woman who looked pissed for the entire time, wearing a turtleneck with her sleeves rolled up, arms covered in scars. Her reddish brown hair was messily cut short, most likely with a knife or kitchen scissors, and she had dark bags under her eyes as if she hadn’t slept in a while, and her eyes were a very brown red color.

There was another man behind the desk after a while, wearing dark sunglasses, so Arthur couldn’t properly get his face. He had long blonde hair in a ponytail with a stray curl on the top of his head, and was wearing a red flannel. He didn’t seem all that interested in being there- none of them really did.

Gilbert pulled him out as the two of them left, huffing, “They better not fuck up my car. That thing is awesome.”

 

Braginsky Mansion  
October 7th  
11:54 PM

 

“Can you do nothing right? Big brother is going to be pissed at you.” A slim girl with long, platinum hair sneered at the small man on the floor in front of her. He had blood on his face and a guilty look in his eyes, shaking as he always did.

When Ivan wasn’t home, Natalya pretty much ran the mansion. She knew what her big brother wanted, of course, and definitely didn’t want to disappoint him- Raivis, however, was incredibly disappointing.

A man laid on the floor below him, and Natalya would have thought him dead if not for the sound of his heart beating- he was unconscious, but certainly alive. In an almost disgusted manner, she lifted him up by his hair to see his face- he wasn’t who they were looking for, which she could obviously tell.

Turning back to Raivis, she snapped, “I’d kill you now if I could- this guy looks nothing like him, don’t you remember? You didn’t even get the blonde hair blue eyes part right!” That was for sure, the man on the ground had pitch black hair, cut into a pristine looking bowl cut, and deep brown eyes. From his dressy outfit, she figured he was some sort of business man.

“Ivan might though.” She smirked, pushing him back slightly, causing him to stumble and fall onto the floor.

“Now now, I am sure it is fine.” Ivan laughed, patting her shoulder. No one had heard him come in, no one ever did. He smiled at Raivis, which was probably worse than Natalya being openly angry at him.

“I-It isn’t what she tells you, I swear!” Raivis stuttered out, scrambling back and finally managing to make it to his feet. “I was looking for him- you see- b-but I was hungry and I couldn’t help myself, but then I remembered that you said not to kill anyone and so I didn’t…”

Ivan was only half listening as he found the man’s wallet in the pocket of his suit jacket, flipping through it, “You were lucky that he was not on duty- he is a detective.” He shot a glance to Raivis, “Still, you must atone for your actions.”

Raivis got the lucky end of the punishment this time and was only on cleaning duty- much worse had happened to Toris, who was actually let off for once, since Raivis was told to do his job. He’d been starved more times than he could count for messing up, and Raivis couldn’t really place why he always turned his friend in for the things he did, but it left him with a guilty feeling.

Toris was never actually mad at him for it, but he disappointed himself in his lack of loyalty. The three of them- with Eduard included- only really had each other. He couldn’t say Eduard was totally loyal to them either, he nearly left for a family of vampires in Sweden before Ivan dragged him right back in.

Ivan was probably too busy searching for the man he had seen just wander up to his house to come up with something more creative. The man- Alfred Frederick Jones- he had his eye on, but wouldn’t explain why. Just that he wanted him, and he wanted him alive.


	3. 3

Detective Kirkland’s Office  
October 8th  
8:05 AM

 

“Have you seen Kiku today? He didn’t call in sick, and he /never/ shows up late.” Gilbert said as he strolled up behind Arthur, resting his hand on his shoulder. Arthur was not in the mood to respond- Gil had in fact taken him to a club, and he was too drunk to remember anything that happened.

His hangover was the more apparent issue however, than whatever drunken partying he had done the previous night. And the lack of Kiku being there, only contributed to the headache. “I haven’t seen him, I hoped you had.” He mumbled, looking up from where his head was in his hands.

“Try calling him.” Gilbert huffed, tossing Arthur the phone. He was too tired to complain, and too tired to wonder why Gilbert didn’t call him himself. He dialed his house number, with no answer, and then his cell phone, which went straight to voicemail.

He sat up at that, furrowing his eyebrows, “Maybe he’s just too sick to get up, and forgot to charge his phone last night.” He offered, setting the phone back down, “The stomach flu is going around, we can bring him some soup later.

When ‘later’ rolled around, the two of them arrived at Kiku’s house with two pots of soup- Arthur insisted he’d cook it, but knowing that he’d somehow manage to fuck it up, Gilbert brought something that would at least be edible.

There was no answer when they knocked on the door, which they discovered was unlocked when they twisted the knob. They exchanged a worried glance before walking in, being careful to be quiet. 

It wasn’t necessary, however, as the house was abandoned in the pristine condition it was usually in- nothing was taken, so there probably weren’t any robbers, and it was too tidy for the possibility of a kidnapper. As Arthur continued to search, he heard Gilbert call him, having found a bit of blood on the porch. 

They took it as a DNA sample, and sent to have it tested in the fear of who’s it was. If it was Kiku’s, he could be in trouble, but it led to even more questions if it wasn’t, and put him as the prime suspect for whatever would have happened.

 

Coffee Shop  
October 8th  
3:15 PM

 

“Excuse me, I asked for two donuts with no cream cheese and one with.” The woman standing in front of the counter at the shop insisted, in what was probably a nice tone, but with how busy they were, Alfred couldn’t help but be irritated about it. Begrudgingly, he filled the order properly with a ‘sorry ma’am’, and went onto the next customer. It was the real start of their pumpkin-spice-everything sale, and Alfred wasn’t sure he could endure the fall.

He’d gotten to know the people at the job, and they were nice and all, even if Lovino seemed constantly pissed, and Ludwig seemed like he had a stick up his ass all the time. Feliciano seemed to be the nicest and the best with customers out of all of them. None of them were inherently that bad though, even Lovino had a sweet side.

When he finally got off work at 9, Alfred wandered into the breakroom and picked up what he figured was the cup of coffee he had left out earlier, but spit it out frantically after taking a sip. It was incredibly coppery tasting, and he figured it had been left out too long, dumping it out as a favor to them. Probably Lovino’s, he figured, he was always leaving things around everywhere.

Ludwig seemed in a rush to leave that day, and assigned Alfred to close down like he usually did. Dragging Feliciano out with him, he left swiftly, even abandoning his coat. Lovino followed behind them, complaining something about Ludwig and his brother becoming too close.

Left alone in the building, Alfred took his time to clean everything up, frowning as he heard the bell on the door, “Sorry, we’re clo-” He turned to come face to face with the millionaire from the paper. He’d recognize him as a millionaire either way, with the obvious price and tailoring of his suit- even his scarf looked upwards of $500.

“Closed. Sorry, dude, you might be super rich, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t...closed.” He trailed off, losing his train of thought as he met eyes with Ivan, “Yeah, I guess we can sit and have a drink.”

Alfred found himself making another pot of coffee and pouring a cup to sit in front of both of them at one of the tables in the front. He wanted to kick the guy out, but he seemed to be moving without even thinking about it.

He blinked a few times as he stared at him, raising an eyebrow, “What are you doing?” He snapped, knowing it was /something/. It had to be.

Ivan just smirked and stared at him with an unnerving smile. On TV, it looked completely normal, and Alfred never knew why interviewers were jumpy around him. In person though, he could practically see the menacing aura radiating off of him, and it felt like he was just threatened even though Ivan hadn’t said a word.

“Yeah,I’ll come with you.” The words came out of Alfred’s mouth with seemingly no rhyme or reason, and he left the steaming mugs of coffee on the table, following Ivan out of the shop despite his better judgement.


End file.
